


50 ways to say goodbye

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Short Chapters, sexy stuff, there’s a dog too, this is gonna take forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: eric is struggling to say goodbye to dylan
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold, Kevin Harris (b.1978)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. mention you’re leaving during sex while your boyfriend is moaning so loudly he can’t hear you

**Author's Note:**

> title: 50 ways to say goodbye by train  
> short chapters (sowwy)  
> bit of a crack fic

“dyl… dyl! fucking, jesus,” eric panted, pulling dylan’s hips faster and harder back onto his cock. dylan was letting out some very manly whines, and eric was convinced the bedsheets were going to tear from how hard he was grasping them.

“bad… fuck! fuck, bad timing for this but,” eric continued his brutal pace, only feeling a tiny bit bad as he watched dylan’s hole struggle to accommodate his size. “they’re deploying me to… christ, iraq. i leave next week.” 

eric felt dylan clench around him, and that was it, eric was gone. he jackhammered into dylan, planting his foot onto the bed for leverage. he thrusted forward once more, before juddering to a stop, releasing inside dylan. 

eric slowly pulled out, collapsing next to dylan. “fuck babe, that was amazing,” eric mumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes. dylan rolled his eyes, but settled down next to eric anyway. maybe eric could get away with not saying goodbye for another week.


	2. write it in the comments section of a cheque so he’s really happy when he finds out you’re leaving

“there, babe. treat yourself to something nice,” eric smiled as he handed dylan the cheque, praying he didn’t notice what eric had written in the comments before he got to the bank. dylan grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of eric’s head. 

“i’m literally grabbing groceries, eric,” dylan leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of eric’s nose. eric smiled a little, trying not to let the sick feeling ruin his day. he was a bit terrified of how dylan was going to react, probably not as violently as if the roles were reversed. to be fair, eric was more scared of dylan being upset that dylan was of eric being angry. 

* * *

dylan came home with two big bags of very important groceries, including eric’s waffles and dylan’s imperative dr pepper cans. no mention of the cheque. 

“it’s fish pie tonight, is that alright?” dylan called over his shoulder, hearing eric come into the kitchen. dylan should be crying right now, begging eric to stay, not being… cool about it.

“yeah, of course darlin’. did you cash the cheque?” eric asked, wrapping his arms around dylan’s waist as he stirred the saucepan. dylan leaned back into his chest, a small smile on his face as he stirred. 

  
“nah, the cashier cashed it for me. did you know walgreens did cheques?” dylan looked over his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to eric’s cheek.

eric was going to have to get more creative.


	3. write it on a cake

eric harris had never baked a cake before. that much was evident when he pulled the smoldering burnt remains of the chocolate sponge cake out of the oven. maybe it was still salvageable? he doubted dylan would want to have any cake after reading the top. shit, dylan was going to get home from work in thirteen minutes.

he threw on the cream cheese frosting, staring in horror as it melted and rolled off the top. well. it was time to just slap on a “i’m leaving” and then run and hide in a cupboard. he started frosting the i, his hands shaking. eric shouldn't be shaking, it was just telling his boyfriend that he was leaving for two years. eric had literally thrown a block at ice at someone’s car in full view of their parents before, eric shouldn’t be fucking afraid of telling dylan he was going for a bit. 

the door opened, and eric… well. he threw the cake, frosting and plate all on the floor. hey, he never said he acted rationally.

it was just arlene, a dead bird in her mouth. fucking pussy man. it was always causing him issues.


	4. tell him in german to ease some of the weight and pain you feel from the guilt from not telling him

“ich gehe weg,” eric groaned as dylan went down on him, his thin lips open wide. dylan grunted a little around his mouthful, eric usually chatted shit in german whenever he got head. “ich… gehe weg!” eric called out as dylan’s nose reached eric’s hip. he still didn’t feel any better, even with dylan being a fucking blowjob king. 

“eric, shush and fuckin’ appreciate it,” dylan hissed, licking at eric’s tip, before taking it back into his mouth. eric grumbled a little, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. why couldn’t dylan just let him run his mouth? he was fucking tired of having to keep quiet, especially with his secret weighing him down. 

maybe that’s why dylan didn’t have to push down his hips at all. eric usually gripped dylan’s head and forced it down so hard and fast that dylan tended to nearly throw up. but eric was pliant, and simply let out grunts and groans as dylan went down on him. he sighed, putting his hand back in dylan’s hair. it was so soft. eric was gonna miss this after he’d gone.


	5. pace the bathroom floor at 3am thinking of ways to say it and then scream “goodbye” so loudly it wakes up your boyfriend

eric knew he talked in his sleep, it’d been the cause for the entire 4th infantry division of the us army finding out he had a boyfriend back home. and said boyfriend was the reason eric was pacing the bathroom floor at 3:11am, mumbling ways to say goodbye.

eric suddenly stopped, putting his hands on the sink. he looked a mess. his eyes were bloodshot and wide, and there was a tic in his jaw. seriously, it was only three years since they graduated, and eric was already nervous about telling dylan the smallest-

y'know what? eric couldn’t beat around the bush anymore. it wasn’t fucking small, it was going to find saddam fucking hussein. while the rest of the army was busy invading, it was going to be eric’s job to find the beardy fucker and drag him out of whatever shithole he was hiding in.

and dylan should be grateful he had such a brave and powerful boyfriend that was willing to save the entire world from-

“goodbye!” eric screamed into the mirror, hearing a loud thump from the bedroom, followed by a pounding on the bathroom door.

“eric, you’re about to say goodbye to your fucking dick if you don’t shut the hell up!” dylan’s yells were softer, but still made eric tense up.

he needed to get a fucking grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls if u have any ideas i need help leave a comment


	6. try to slip it in casually while talking about 9/11

“you hear they’re doin’ a commission into 9/11?” eric said, looking at dylan on the couch from the kitchen. dylan shrugged, continuing to channel surf.

“what more do they need to know? some mentalists hijacked some planes and crashed them as they felt like it,” dylan grumbled, his hand reaching into the bowl beside him.

eric stopped, thinking back to their grand plans. they’d planned that shit first. damn fuckin’ terrorists stealing eric’s suicide ideas. like, what was the point in thinking up these super fucking cool ways to kill people if some beardy fuckers were just gonna steal your idea?

“i wonder what they told their loved ones before they left,” eric turned away from the window into the living room, pretending to pour a cup of juice.

“dunno. if you abandon those you love to go fight a dumbass war, what’s the fuckin’ point in coming back?” dylan’s tone turned icy.

maybe eric could get someone else to do it, because he really didn’t want to end up with dylan’s fist in his face.


	7. ask your dad to tell him

“dad, can you tell dylan i’m leaving for iraq?” eric asked, his fingers gripping the plastic phone tight enough he thought it was going to buckle.

“you want me to get involved in your faggotry? no thank you, eric. i will tolerate it, but i will not support it,” wayne snapped, grumbling a little. “i wish i’d gotten you into goddamn counselling before that fag boy-“

“okay, can you put mom on?” eric scribbled off “dad” from a list by the phone.


	8. ask your mom to tell him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate the word mom so much appreciate this

“hello sweetie! dad says you’re struggling to tell dylan goodbye?” kathy said, her bright voice pulling eric out of the shit mood that was brewing. 

“yeah mom, i don’t know how to tell him. he’s so against the war and he’s getting really antsy about how we’re gonna pay rent in six months time even though i’m already gonna be gone by then and makin’ enough to keep him happy and-“ eric hadn’t realised how much he’d been holding in. goddamn he was bad at keeping secrets.

“woah woah eric, you know your dad just took me along, i can’t remember if he ever told me goodbye,” kathy sounded like she was smiling, and eric could hear wayne grumbling on the other end of the phone.

eric began to chew his nails. it was something he hadn’t done since he was in high school, but he was running out of options. he scribbled “mom” off the list, trying to regulate his breathing.

“what about kevin? have you tried asking him? i’m sure he’s said goodbye to poppy a few times, and even if he won’t tell dylan for you, you can ask for some tips,” kathy could hear how panicked her son was becoming, and was pleased to hear eric breath out slowly.

“yeah, great idea mom. is kevin’s number the same?” eric rested the receiver on his shoulder, reaching over for the address book. dylan had drawn a load of dicks on wayne’s page, making eric smile. god, he’d been so worried about walking dylan, he hadn’t even considered what it was gonna be like for him.

“yes, if they don’t pick up, do call back, poppy’s fit to burst and they might’ve gone to the hospital!” kathy laughed, making eric smile a little brighter. this was gonna be fine. it had to be.


	9. ask your brother to tell him

kevin wasn’t fucking picking up. eric knew dylan was about to go on lunch and possibly come home soon. the idea of dylan accidentally overhearing eric’s news instead of being told gently and kindly fucking wracked at his stomach.

the ringing tone echoed through the empty apartment, causing eric to slam the phone down in frustration. kevin knew everything about fucking saying goodbye. he did it a thousand and one times when leaving poppy and his parents and eric. 

he picked up the phone again, punched in the number and took a deep breath. with every dial back, his hope faded-

“what the fuck do you want, man?” kevin’s bleary voice came through on the other side, slightly out of breath. eric paused. what did he want? did he want kevin to tell dylan? did he want kevin to tell eric what to say? 

“can you… tell dylan i’m leaving?” eric asked, pulling the receiver a little closer to his mouth. dylan wasn’t due home for hours yet, but eric couldn’t help but be paranoid. he’d come home a few times early, as a special surprise, but all it did was cause a fuck ton of anxiety for eric.

“the…? shit, man. no. you gotta face this battle by yourself. i can’t do everything for you,” kevin snapped, a muffled groan coming through.

“do you think poppy’ll tell him?” eric looked down at his list, realising he hadn’t even considered her. kevin let out a louder groan, before a shuffling sound could be heard.


	10. ask your sister-in-law to tell him

“eric, i have been told by every goddamn member of the harris family that you’re strugglin’ to fuckin’ say goodbye. why do you think i’m gonna give you any different advice?” poppy had clearly been slightly on edge since entering her 39th week of pregnancy. 

eric couldn’t help but smile, but swallowed, trying to stop his throat from being so dry. “can you tell dylan i’m leaving?” he asked, hearing her suck in a breath through her teeth. fuck sake. she was about to threaten to stab him. 

“let me get this straight, eric. you want me to drive six-hundred goddamn miles to tell your fuckin’ boyfriend that you’re fuckin’ off to iraq while i’m about to fucking give birth? i can fuckin’ feel her head pressin’ into my goddamn cervix,” poppy yelled down the phone, but eric just thought of when kevin had gone awol for a week because poppy’d fallen down the stairs.

eric listened to a few more minutes of her verbal abuse and a large amount of information about the feeling and shape of the yet unnamed baby pressing into her bladder. 

“okay, cool, poppy. speak to you soon,” he stated simply, putting the phone down and looking over at the letter that was going to tear him away from dylan. 

maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go missing...


	11. ponder the consequences of going awol from the army as to not tell him

judging by yahoo, if eric decided fuck iraq, he’d get fucked. he could end up in jail for five years, long past the year and a half that eric was going to be away. but… if they went somewhere, and hid, far far away…

no. eric had done that before. only once, but he’d had to give up a month’s pay for that hour. it’d been stupid, and he was caught within ten minutes of leaving base. but this time he had way more planning and time to work out how he was gonna get away with it. 

but dylan loved rifle. and so did eric. eric fucking adored rifle. kevin had offered them the annex in crystal, but dylan had only asked for one thing while house shopping, and that was to remain in colorado. living in rifle felt strangely… fitting. 

crystal was too close to vegas too. something kevin had done nothing but complain about since going there. but eric knew how to keep his significant other happy, even if it meant giving up living in germany. he stared at the website, scrolling up and down. he couldn’t even run away if he was in iraq, cuz then his ass would be shot. and then dylan would complain that he would have to start sleeping with the heated pillow again. 

eric paused in his searching, leaning back in his chair. he couldn’t just ditch it. he needed to go, and eric had to tell dylan.


	12. get your cat to give him a note

arlene had been licking her ass for the past hour. all eric could hear was slurp slurp every five seconds. eric found it a little hard to write a heartfelt goodbye letter when arlene was constantly reminding him that she was very much grooming herself. 

dylan came through the front door suddenly, calling out for eric. “home early babe! anders broke his hand on a standin’ desk!” dylan shouted from downstairs. fuck. eric wasn’t- 

“babe?” dylan called out again, his heavy gait telling eric that he was coming up the stairs. oh fuck oh shit. 

eric suddenly picked up arlene, and jammed the paper into one of her paws, making sure it was firmly attached to her claws. he dropped the mewling cat, and stood up, smiling widely at dylan as he walked inside. “eric, why you so sweaty?” dylan asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“exercisin’, of course. what else?” eric smiled, looking down at arlene. 

who had just torn the paper into shreds.

and eaten it.


	13. tell him while shooting so he can’t hear you

“wanna go shootin’?” eric asked, poking his head over the top of the couch. dylan was staring down at his book, but eric watched the little smile stretch across his thin lips.

“alright, watcha takin’?” dylan asked, standing up and throwing his book onto the table. 

“the carbine, haven’t fired her since-” eric paused, a lump forming in his throat. fuck. he hadn’t fired the carbine since 1999. since they’d given up on nbk. dylan tensed a little at the reminder, but nodded anyway.

“yeah, i’ll see what’s in the trunk and use that,” dylan smiled, reaching for his coat. “west rifle range?”

“wherever you want, sweetheart,” eric pressed a short kiss to dylan’s cheek, throwing on his own coat. it was far more domestic than eric had imagined his life to turn out like. 

dylan had confided how he expected to be dead by 18, eric expected to be dead a little while after that. but here they were, 21 years old and content. 

the car ride was mainly humming along to the radio, dylan trying to catch the wind and eric feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

eric didn’t have a plan, but hoped that dylan wouldn’t shoot him for trying to say goodbye. it was hitting eric hard, every day was getting harder and harder.

“do you have change for the parkin-“ dylan began, but eric simply drove over the hill by the side of the meter and parked just beyond the boundaries. dylan couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but laughed anyway and got out of the car. “always a reb, huh eric?” 

eric laughed along with him, before getting out of the car and slipping him a wink. dylan pulled out the half-sawn shotgun, staring at where eric had patched up the barrel after they’d made the decision to stop planning for nbk. 

god, the planning of their deaths seemed such a good idea at the time. and then they fell in love. and now eric’s entire body tensed at the thought of dylan even getting hurt, let alone dying. 

the carbine felt heavier than eric remembered, but not as heavy as the weight of his secret. god that was so fucking corny, he needed to watch less family guy. 

but walking through the woods made eric ache for littleton, a feeling he’d never thought he’d have. rifle was beautiful, and dylan had his dream job, but god if eric didn’t just wish to duck into a blackjacks and have a really big, greasy meat feast pizza.

but dylan was happy. and that’s all that mattered to eric. dylan had finally gotten used to the shotgun, and coming back after a while didn’t seem to bother him as much as eric thought it would.

they still awkwardly flailed and dylan laughed as he nearly fell backwards from the recoil. but eric’s training had allowed him to get used to the kickback that had plagued him so much when he was 17.

dylan lowered his shotgun, looking over at eric. “do you ever regret… us?” he asked, reloading the shotgun. eric raised the carbine, not quite sure what he was aiming at. 

“no. do you?” eric asked, finally deciding to aim at a tree that’d had some initials carved into it. dylan shook his head, raising his shotgun at the same tree.

they fired at the same time. eric whispered goodbye as the shots rang through the trees.


End file.
